


Hurt

by JustGail



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGail/pseuds/JustGail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both so used to being hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the past hour or so and here's what I have to say before you begin:  
> 1\. It's super short, but I'm actually happy with it like this.  
> 2\. This is my first time publishing smut, and it happened almost by mistake, so please be kind.  
> 3\. This is my first work in this fandom and I chose to write from Andrew's perspective, which is practically suicide. Again, be kind.  
> I hope you enjoy :D

They’re both so used to being hurt. They’re both so used to being afraid.

It’s the middle of the night, and they’re sleeping in the same bed, and neither of them are touching because touching is hard, it’s dangerous, it’s only ever meant bad things. Andrew has rules, but they’re not nonsensical. They’re there for a reason. They’re there to keep him safe.

(This means they’re there because he’s afraid, but Andrew would never admit such a thing, not to others and even less to himself.)

A phone buzzes once, the ringer turned off so only the vibration made any sound, but it woke both of them up anyway. Andrew feels Neil’s weight lifting from the bed as he grabs the phone at fault. He doesn’t let himself fall back to sleep, knowing the moment Neil sits back down he’ll simply startle awake again, and so he listens to the quiet, waiting for Neil’s footsteps to alert him to his return.

Sometimes, late at night, for just a moment, he lets himself think of the future. This moment is a moment such as this.

Neil comes back eventually, and Andrew takes a deep breath and turns his back to him. This, alone, is harder now that he knows what it’s like to lose him. He never wants to turn his back to Neil and find that he’s gone when he turns back around.

He can hear Neil’s voice murmur goodnight, but neither of them relax enough to sleep in the next twenty minutes or so. Andrew turns around and his heart skips a beat when he sees Neil is somehow still there, somehow looking at him in that way that he hates so much.

“I’ve told you to stop looking at me like that,” Andrew reminds him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neil says, but his expression wavers, turns into something else.

Andrew reaches out to touch, whispers, “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil says, and their lips touch, hungry, always hungry, both of them starved and afraid, not used to this feeling.

(Andrew doubts he’ll ever get used to this feeling, this feeling of helplessness, this feeling of _dependence_ , and he hates it.)

Neil reaches for his neck with his lips and Andrew leans into it, for once staying still and _letting him_ do this. He’ll have a mark later, he knows; but he’s so sick of marks that are reminders of pain. Both of them are ready for marks that come with joy.

Their lips meet again, and pants are coming off, both of them panting into each other’s mouths. Andrew touches Neil, and Neil pants harder, giving up the pretense of even trying to kiss him, closes his eyes in wait. Andrew’s heart fills with emotion, and in response filled again – with disgust. He pulls harder at Neil, waiting, waiting for him to cum.

(It occurs to Andrew that he’s always waiting for Neil, that he doesn’t mind waiting for him, and that Neil doesn’t mind waiting for Andrew. He pulls even harder.)

Neil comes all over Andrew’s hands, and Andrew reaches for the soft tissues he now keeps in the dresser next to the bed. He cleans himself up, and once he’s done, he lets Neil kiss him again.

“You can…” Neil says, trailing off. “You know. If you want to.”

Andrew doesn’t want to. He wants to bruise Neil. He doesn’t want to touch himself at all.

Andrew reaches for Neil the same way Neil reached for him earlier, suckling at his collarbone, enjoying the soft sounds Neil makes when he knows there are people in the room over. For a moment, Andrew is yet again annoyed, this time at the fact that even in Columbia, they can’t have any privacy. Then, he puts his mind back at the task at hand: leaving a mark on Neil’s marred skin that cannot be considered anything but _good_.

(Sometimes, Neil leaves him breathless, and the way he murmurs Andrew’s name when he’s giving him a hickey is one of them.)

Once he’s satisfied with his work he leans back, ready to simply go back to sleep. Neil stays still for a long time but Andrew refuses to look at his face, to find out what he’s thinking. Eventually he shifts, and a bit after that, his breath evens out, grows shallow.

Andrew is left to his thoughts, and there is nothing Andrew hates more than his own mind, except for maybe the way Neil looks at him sometimes.

They’re both so used to being hurt. But tonight, they left their marks on each other, and it didn’t hurt at all.

Andrew falls asleep, not realizing that for just a moment, he was not afraid.


End file.
